


States Of Mind

by orphan_account



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:10:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When CT leaves, Wash starts to dream. Wash/CT</p>
            </blockquote>





	States Of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Because I'm writing these out of jealousy over other writers skill, it's probably fair to dedicate these to the writers that 'inspired' me. So I guess this first one goes to Nemonus because An Indefinite Epitaph is probably the best RVB fic on the site.

He remembered the day he found out about her. Her usually evasive eyes set in fire and brimstone, her face morphed into something less then pleasant, her hands clenched so tight onto the table her knuckles had become to turn white.  
He assumed she was cheating at first. The hurried phone calls and missed dates and guilty looks he got whenever he walked in on her using her laptop. York had told him not to worry, that she would open up given time, and that until then he had enough cheap beer to make him forget about whatever he thought was the problem.  
'Maybe she's just going through something, like she lost someone close. Don't worry about it.' Unable to think of anything to say about that, Wash picked up his beer and poured it down his throat.  
It wasn't until she screamed at him for looking in her bag for breath mints that he finally acknowledged there was a problem. Her usually soft voice had become hard and accusing, her joyful eyes becoming almost predatory. The sex had become more frequent, but had became more out of anger then attraction on Connie's part, usually leaving Wash covered in bites and nail marks and swollen bruises. North had noticed them one evening at the bar, unsure whether he it was something to laugh at or be concerned over. After finding out it was from sex, North had decided it was safe to let out an uneasy laugh.  
'She's probably just going through a phase, man. Don't worry about it.'  
Wash carried on 'Not worrying about it' until a week later, when she dropped her bag by accident, revealing a gun barrel poking out the top of her purse. Bending down to pick it up, he saw a knee flying up to his face, cracking right into his teeth and sprawling him across the floor like a ragdoll. She took one look at him, one at her bag, picked it up and walked out of his life. No kiss goodbye, just one 'fuck you' look and left.  
It wasn't until a week later that he got the call from Carolina. He had fallen to his knees, quietly choking up tears while his colleagues sat around watching him. He had stayed there until Maine had come over and carried him off to a quiet office next door while they waited for York and North to turn up.  
'I pushed her away. I should have told her to stay. She wouldn't have left' he managed between violent sobs. Maine growled for comfort, or support. He never really could tell with him. Eventually York had arrived with a crate of beer, and North with support and condolences, and Wash sat there letting out quiet sobs between the three of them.  
Carolina never came. She couldn't quite face up to it after seeing her partner shoot poor little Connie twice in the stomach and once in the chest, and watching her partner escape.  
Then the dreams started.  
None of them featured him or Connie at first. It was always Leonard and Allison, or Church as he liked to be called. He dreams of her death, over and over, in a million different ways. He had seen her shot, stabbed, strangled, cancer ridden, overdosed on heroin and cocaine, in car crashes and house fires. What was worse was the soft voice in the back of his head, the one that kept asking him how she died. It was child like, drenched in eagerness.  
'How did she die, Leonard? Was it a car crash? An overdose? Why don't you remember, Leonard? WHY DON'T YOU REMEMBER!'  
He had stopped going to work, stopped going out with friends. York dropped by once, to ask if he was coping. Wash had broken his nose, screamed something about heroin and slammed the door.  
York stopped visiting after that.  
Eventually Leonard and Allison started became David and Connie, with her death being replaced with more overdoses and house fires and cancer, playing in his head like a horror movie.  
One day Carolina came by, clearly unfazed about the prospect of a broken nose.  
'We found her partners body in the middle of the desert. It was a drug deal gone wrong.' He broke into tears at that for some reason. No stranger to being a shoulder to cry on, she put her arms around him and held him like a child until he stopped.  
When he was finally done lacing her teal coat with tears and snot, he looked up at her.  
'You've got his eyes' he says, after he's finally done. Unsure how to reply, she thanks him and leaves, making excuses about dinner with York. He closes the door behind her, and heads towards the bedroom, collapsing into the warmth of the pillows and comforters that he used to share with her, and dreamed of Leonard and Allison and bright green eyes and everybody that was lost.


End file.
